| Aran Ward Sell | Blog & Writing |

The Gumpies

On top of the bottom of everything large
There’s a gumpy,
Oh yes a gumpy.
They hide in the bucket you left in the yard,
The frivolsome, frogglesome gumpies.
They eat peanut butter,
And three-day-old stew,
And practically anything lumpy,
And if you don’t lock your cupboards, they’ll poo in the lard,
The nigglesome, twigglesome gumpies.

The fashionable problem, in modern-day life
Is a gumpy,
Oh yes a gumpy.
They’ll jump out the plughole and give you a fright,
The nibblesome, nobblesome gumpies
They like to chase grandmothers,
Knock them out cold,
And dress the old dears up as monkeys.
And they’ll sneak out at midnight, and paint your cat white,
Those tipplesome, topplesome gumpies.

They’re small and they’re furry and smell of banana;
The gumpy,
The damnable gumpy!
They wear velvet waistcoats, and Turkish pyjamas,
The gigglesome, gogglesome gumpies.
But even though they look fluffy,
Don’t make them annoyed,
For they really are terribly grumpy.
They have sixty-three teeth, and they bite like piranhas!
Those mean, nasty, troublesome gumpies.

So here’s what you do, if you should ever find
A gumpy.
Lamentable gumpy!
You sneak up quite slowly on it from behind,
The strugglesome, bubblesome gumpy.
And then, with a spring,
You pounce down from above it!
And before it can flee,
You must hold it, and hug it.
For they’re really quite pleased
Once you give them a squeeze,
Those bad-tempered, but lovable gumpies.